Stop the war, please. I want to get off...

Monday morning, and I’m back on the train again, heading back to work less than twelve hours after I left last night. For better or for worse, I’m under a deadline from hell that seems to be getting worse by the day, as colleagues suddenly remember that they have to send me documentation for editing (serious editing, as the documents are all written in English by non-native speakers who, for the most part, couldn’t properly format a document if their lives depended on it), so that we can send it all off to our project partner abroad.

But I digress. The train. Thanks to yesterday morning’s direct hit on the train garage in Haifa, the train schedule is completely out of whack. Last night I waited more than half an hour for a train that would take me home. It seems that there are no longer express trains – only trains that stop at every station, and they don’t seem to be running on time either. The lines have changed, the schedules are non-existent. There’s no public transportation in the north, which probably doesn’t make too much of a difference for the people living there, given that they are all shut up in their shelters. My sister-in-law lives in Haifa with her family, and they spent yesterday in the shelter at her workplace, with the kids sleeping in the protected room every night.

I heard on the news this morning that Katyushas hit the area around Afula last night. They are inching closer to our home, though still far enough away that we haven’t begun thinking about sleeping in our protected room, which is currently our home office. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I was scared, scared that they will start firing missiles at our town as well. I find myself wondering whether or not the woman who runs my son’s daycare has a plan of action, and I wonder where my husband will take cover near his workplace. Should we think about spending time with friends and family scattered around the south? I have fleeting thoughts about taking my son to the US for a while if things continue to get worse. I’d rather be considered a coward and a traitor than put my son’s life at stake in order to prove a point, to show that I can stand defiantly in the face of danger.

If before this mess began we were a country of news junkies, it has now turned into an epidemic. Everyone on the train (which is now totally packed – standing room only) is either reading the news or talking about it. It permeates every aspect of our lives and there is no escape. I have a newspaper in my bag that I picked up in the station, a free newspaper put out for train commuters with morning and evening editions. Nearly every story deals with a different aspect of “the situation”, and those that don’t are equally depressing. I scanned it quickly, turning pages impatiently while looking for the Sudoku puzzle, the only bit of content that would bring me any joy. I turned on the computer instead, knowing that this would probably be the only time I’d have to blog today, and feeling like I had to write something. Any spare moments at work will be spent on the news sites, keeping track of the latest developments in this insane war we are conducting with a terror organization.

This whole situation is just so, oh, I don’t know. Insane? Crazy? Horrifying? Pick your word of choice. It is astounding to me that just one week ago, life was relatively normal as we followed the antics of Zizou and wondered whether our president had been sticking his hands in places where they didn’t belong. Purchased my ticket to Amsterdam and thought about buying an MP3 player (suggestions, anyone?). Life was essentially good. Then suddenly, in the blink of an eye, we were deep in the shit, with no end in sight. And there really is no end in sight as the missiles continue to fall and we all go into war mode. I am emotionally battered, though otherwise okay. I want to see the Hizbollah destroyed, but at the same time, I just want it all to be over. It’s been less than a week, and I am already tired of the fear, the news of the dead and wounded. I am tired of the defiant speeches given by Olmert and Nasrallah, vowing to fight until they win, while we the people are the ones running for cover. I do not want to have to know what to do if there is a Katyusha attack, and I do not want to have to placate my friends and loved ones abroad, knowing that I do not feel as secure as I am trying to sound. I am wondering when my son will suddenly say the word “Katyusha”, and I am wondering whether it will make me laugh or cry.

Stop the war, please. I want to get off.